


can we always be this close

by micahandthebees



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Post-Brotherhood, also they r in love, canon does not spark joy, gendry and arya escape together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 18:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20362729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micahandthebees/pseuds/micahandthebees
Summary: "Gendry?" she whispered."Say your piece so I can go back to sleep, m'lady." he grumbles, eyes dropping shut, the vibrations in his chest travelling up her arm from where she has pressed it against him. She hesitates."Would you marry me if I asked?"He is definitely awake now.------Arya and Gendry manage to escape the Brotherhood and run to Bravos, where they make a life together. 4 years pass when the two friends get word that her siblings have returned home. Two days away from Winterfell, Arya has a realisation and a question.





	can we always be this close

**Author's Note:**

> gendry and arya dont cross the line before this bc i dont believe in writing statutory r*pe regardless if this is a fantasy world so aryas 18 here bc thats the mfing LAW
> 
> please be gentle on gendry he just woke up and already suffers from a severe case of dumbass

"Gendry?" she whispered. The noise from downstairs filters up to them, comforting them as they try to sleep. He shifts in their bed, arm briefly tightening around her waist. She gets a grunt in response. She tries again.

"Gendry."

"Mmph."

Rolling her eyes, she turns to face him. His eyes open slightly as he waits for her to make waking him up worth his time. "Say your piece so I can go back to sleep, m'lady." he grumbles, eyes dropping shut, the vibrations in his chest travelling up her arm from where she has pressed it against him, unavoidable in the tiny bed they were sharing. She's half lying on his chest, rising and falling with each breath. She hesitates. 

He shifts and opens his eyes again.

"We're nearly there, Arya. What's got you thinking this hard?"

They are two days ride away from Winterfell, resting in a small room above a tavern. After they escaped from the Brotherhood, they travelled to Bravos when word that all her remaining family had been killed while they dined with the Frey reached them. It wasn't until three name days had passed, four since they escaped, until she received word that her sister and two of her brothers had reclaimed Winterfell.

Gendry willingly gave up their life they had painstakingly made to come home with her. He had gotten a job smithing while she trained, finding a water dancing teacher who taught her what he could in exchange for repair work from Gendry and fresh fish she would steal from the docks. She would always find them their dinner, when Gendry had less work she would go fishing and occasionally she'd travel to the closest wood and hunt for them, having gotten significantly better with a bow and arrow. 

Gendry had been given a room near the forge by the aging blacksmith, one bed, but they made it work. It wasn't until she had her 16th name day that he finally used the bed with her, but only because she tripped him into it, a cleverly placed foot sending him crashing onto the thin furs like a bull running headfirst into a wall. She had to quickly climb in and force him to stay put by sitting on his back while he threw a fit about how it wasn't right, that she's a lady and people will say things. He finally stopped when she reminded him that people already think they're married, so what does it matter if he gets a good night's rest for once. 

He's been next to her every night since.

She watched her hand rested on his chest as it rose and fell with his breathing. His heartbeat was steady through the fabric, a comfort to her through her wandering thoughts. 

"Would you marry me if I asked?" 

He is definitely awake now.

"Would I what?" He said, alarmed. He moves to sit up and face her. 

"Would you marry me? We've technically been married since I was 14 anyway so why not make it official?" 

He drags a hand down his face, sighing. "That was to keep us together and you safe, Arya. You know damn well it wasn't a real marriage."

"Yes," she says quickly, "but you could have said we were siblings but instead you chose to tell the blacksmith we were bastards who were married! That was your choice!"

"Yeah, because I can protect you better as my wife!"

"Exactly, so marry me!" 

They sit in silence, glaring at each other. They both are upright in the small bed, close but still separate. 

She takes a deep breath. "Why not?" she asks.

"What do you mean, why not?" He's looking away from her, eyes towards the dwindling fire.

"I mean why don't you want to marry me, stupid?"

He whips back to her, face reddening, spluttering. "It's not...I…we can't…you just…it's...it's not right Arya!" 

She's irritated now, "If you make one more damn comment about how it's because you're a bastard and I'm highborn, I'll slit your throat with my knife."

He throws her a smirk. "You can't do that, I made that knife." he says, blush still prominent on his face. 

"Why can't you marry me? I'm not a kid anymore Gendry."

He sighs again. "That's exactly the problem. You're not a kid. And no matter what you say, you're still a highborn, Arya! You can't pretend that the second you walk through that gate, your brothers and sister won't immediately take you to go do whatever it is rich people do during war and I'll head to the forge again. You'll be where you belong and I'll be where I belong, and one day, you'll be sent off to marry some Southron rich boy and I'll watch you leave. You can't act like they won't separate us, Arya!"

"That's exactly MY point! If you marry me they can't separate us! I don't know about you but I don't fancy the idea of sleeping alone for the first time in four years and if you even think that I'm going to leave my family, which includes you, to go and be some Southron highborn's little wife then maybe you're as stupid as I thought!" She's near shouting now, the noise from the tavern downstairs probably just covering her voice. A thought lurks at the back of her mind and she feels deflated.

"Oh."

"Oh, what, m'lady?"

She can't look at him now. Her hands are far safer and hurt a lot less to stare at.

"You don't want to be with me." She says quietly.

"What do you mean I don't want to be with you? I didn't spend the last 4 years travelling across the world and sharing a home and then a bed if I didn't want to be with you, Arya." She knows him too well, knows without looking that there is a frown creasing his forehead, and she wishes she could look up and smooth it out with her fingers.

"I mean, stupid, that you don't want to be with me as a husband. There are many women in Wintertown that'll be falling over themselves for you. Maybe you'll find a worthy wife there." She's still looking at her hands, her words have bite to them as the bitterness swells in her chest.

"Arya.." He says gently as he grabs her hands.

"Don't." she says, ripping them from his grasp. She's up and stumbling away from him, forcing tears down deep. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" 

"Don't pretend for my sake, and don't say it's because of me being too young, or because you're a bastard. Don't lie to me." She's trying to collect her things when he appears next to her and grabs her hand again, pulling her to face him. A few tears have escaped now, but he grants her the small mercy of ignoring them.

"Arya, I didn't spend the last four years following you across the world, sharing our home and then our bed with you if I didn't want to be with you. You're still young, I don't want you stuck with me when you deserve better." He says softly, bending down moving into her eyeline whenever she looked away from him. His words made her stop, his meaning sending her thoughts racing. 

"Wait, do you only think I want to marry you just until I meet someone else?" She asks, incredulous.

He throws his hands in the air. "Well, isn't that what you said? Your reasons to get married are to stop your siblings from separating us. Regardless of how much I love you, I won't marry someone just out of convenience for them! That might be what marriage is for most people but that's also what starts wars and creates bastards like me! I'm not interested in being something to be used and then thrown away, M'lady." 

"Don't call me that!" she snaps. "And how could you think that? I want to marry you because you're pack. You're as much of my family as Sansa and Jon and Bran and yes, maybe I want to marry you to make sure that no one except Death can take you from me, but don't think it's just because I'm just some rich girl who thinks that I can drop you once I'm bored. Have you thought I might love you too?" 

"You don't love me, I'm just the only person you've spoken to for 4 years."

She's definitely yelling now, hands clenched into fists. "Then by that logic you don't love me either."

He glares at her. Gods she wants to smooth that frown. "Don't tell me how I feel." He all but growls at her.

"Don't tell me how I feel, then! You are my family and when we reach Winterfell I want to return to my family with family already at my side. Will you marry me or not, you stupid bull?"

"Yes." He snaps.

They both pause. The air around them feels heavy.

"What did you say?" She asks.

"Yes I will marry you." the answer rushes out of him, tensions leaving his face slowly, a smile spreading instead.

Her arm flies out, hand grabbing his shirt and pulling him close without a second thought. She runs her fingers out to his jaw before standing up as far as she could on her toes to press her lips against his. She can feel the smile against her as he presses back, his hands reaching for her. One settles on her waist and another on the back of her head as he deepens the kiss. 

She's never kissed anyone before, it's less disgusting than she thought it was. Granted, the tales she heard from Sansa and her friends were probably made up. He makes her feel warm, her skin burning where his hands rest through her sleep tunic. She needs to breathe so she pulls back, resting her head against his. 

They stay there, legs warm from the fire and arms wrapped around each other.

\--------------------

Sansa received word of two riders approaching town in the early morning. Jon is away and she and Bran are the only Starks who can receive visitors, but she hardly does for the many people who have been arriving at Winterfell, most being from the nearby towns and the preparations for war too great to spare time to greet them. She only stands on the parapet today due to some advice from Bran. 

"There are people coming who you should greet. Everyone returns in the end." He had said in his disinterested tone, a ghost of a smile on his face. They both watched as the two people rode into the courtyard, one very large and one very small, both with hoods up and thick furs on. She watched as the large one climbed off, quickly going around to the other who had slid off the horse with ease. The large one removed his hood first, revealing a young man with black hair, who held his hand out for the smaller one. The small one quickly held it before dropping it and then her hood. 

Sansa had never run faster in her life. 

\-------------

Arya barely had time to right herself before a red blur had thrown herself onto her. She stumbled, body automatically tensing, ready to attack, before she felt Gendry's hand on her lower back and calmed. Sansa's grip tightened as Arya felt her sister start to cry, Arya's own tears threatening to fall, when she saw Bran watching over their embrace. 

She pulled herself from Sansa and ran to him, arms thrown awkwardly around his neck due to the height difference. She felt a small, dainty hand on her back and turned to Sansa, hand still on Bran's shoulder. Sansa grabbed her other hand, holding tightly, and gave her a watery smile. 

"Welcome home, Arya." Bran said, uncharacteristically warm. Sansa hugged her again, squeezing her tightly. She eventually managed to extract herself from the embrace and looked around the courtyard.

"Your husband is taking your horses to the stables." Bran said before the thought had even developed. The sudden fear that had clenched her heart when she didn't see him eased at his words.

Sansa, however, looked around wildly. "Husband?" she asked.

"That would be me, M'lady." 

Arya turned to the voice, Gendry giving her a quick smile and kiss on her forehead before stiffly giving Sansa and Bran a truly terrible bow. Arya stifled a laugh. 

"Gendry Waters, m'lady. I'm a blacksmith." He said when Sansa stared at him, shocked.

"That's not quite right, though." said Bran pensively. Everyone looked to him. 

"What do you mean, that's not quite right?" said Arya, ready to defend him. 

"Only that he's not a Waters. King Robert got his final wish." 

Arya turned to Gendry, alarmed. He would have told her if his last name wasn't Waters. Thankfully, he looked as confused as she felt, and her stomach settles. He wouldn't lie to her.

"What wish?" Sansa asks. 

Bran's face changes, his expression going from neutral to one that looked as if he was far away from this place. "I have a son, you have a daughter, we'll join our houses." 

Gendry stands next to her, tense, his jaw tight. She reaches for his hand and rubs her thumb against the back of it. 

"You're a Baratheon."

Sansa's words cut through the courtyard, harsher than the wind. They really should have moved inside. Gendry is breathing heavily, short bursts of air through his nose. "I'm just a bastard from Flea Bottom. I'm no Baratheon." 

Sansa speaks gently. "I see it now, you have the same eyes as King Robert. We met him here years ago. I remember his face. Although you aren't anywhere near his age or how fat he was, you definitely look l-"

"Sansa stop!" 

Arya turned back to her husband and placed her hands on his cheeks. He looks from the floor to her face, and she smooths the frown away with her fingers. They watch each other for a time, her hands growing cold from the wind. He nods and she turns to her siblings.

"I'm glad to see you both, and I hope to sit with you later today and share our stories, but Gendry and I have been travelling for quite awhile and need to rest. Is my room still as it was?"

Sansa straightened. "Yes it is, though with a fine coat of dust. I can have it aired out for you?" 

"No that won't be necessary, our first home was significantly worse. Thank you, Sansa."

"But Arya-"

Arya quickly grabbed her sister's hand and flashed her a small smile. "Later, big sister."

Sansa and Bran watched their sister, hand in hand with Robert Baratheon's bastard son, walk in the direction of her old chamber. They kept having to stop for him to place kisses on her hand or her forehead, his eyes never leaving her. 

"Is that really our sister?" Sansa wonders aloud. "Last time we spoke she was still a child and the thought of love made her sick. Now she's a woman grown with a husband that she's clearly been with for years-"

"Two days."

"What?" said Sansa

"They've been married for two days." Bran said.

"ONLY TWO DAYS?"

"They've been travelling together since she was 11 and living together since she was 14." 

"TWO DAYS BRAN."

Bran called the manservant who pushes his chair for him. "Do not say anything against this, Sansa. You have only just got her back. He is as much of her family as we are."

He leaves her standing alone.

"Oh, Gods." she groans, eyes skywards.

She has a feast to prepare.

**Author's Note:**

> its probs not clear but sansas thrilled for them shes just shocked and also bummed she missed so much thats why the feast
> 
> also fun fact rickon is alive and just chillin in some random city ballin and living it up bc fuck canon thats why
> 
> Also please read https://archiveofourown.org/works/18753379/chapters/44486932 corinne wrote it and its valid and so is she


End file.
